


until lifeless

by Melokho



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Magical Ailment, Near Death, Stab Wound, Suturing, World of Ruin, loss of senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melokho/pseuds/Melokho
Summary: Fodina Caestino — abandoned, deamon-infested, and home to an old relic Ignis Scientia intends to retrieve for his King during his absence.The plan is simple. Get in, get out, never involve his friends in any part of it. Well, don’t we all know what they say about plans and contact with the enemy...
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Ignis whump February exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WandererRiha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/gifts).



The view from atop the train station must have been something quite special once. Elevated along the cliffside of the Succarpe mountains, leaving a clear, unobstructed panorama, to where the valley made way for the ocean, it would have to have been breathtakingly beautiful. 

He imagined waking up early just to watch the sun as it set over the bay, imagined it as it would have happened back then. Prompto would have been taking one picture after another, doing all the talking. Gladio, returning from setting up camp just in time to join them. Noctis, groggy after a hearty meal, leaning against his shoulders, fully intending to go to sleep as soon as the spectacle was over. The four of them, together, in a happier timeline where there was no war, no endless night, no prophesied sacrifices.

Nowadays the landscape consisted of dark shapes on top of even darker shapes and the last time the sun had risen was years past.

Reports told that Cartanica had been all of a shell of civilisation long before darkness fell. A ghost town, Ignis had had it described to him. How loosely such phrases had been used before they all learned the true meaning of them. Niflheim might have been done with Cartanica, but it hadn’t yet been completely abandoned. The only things left now were the daemons — daemons and death.

“Can you make out the quarry? I can’t see a thing down there.”

“Do be careful.” If Talcott bent any further over the railing Ignis, would have to pull him back, as if he was still a boy of seven instead of almost a grown man. “We’ll see it up close soon enough.”

Fodina Caestino welcomed them with a committee of the kobold-esque Snaga daemons. They dispatched them easily enough but the fight set the tone for the rest of their foray into the depths of the quarry. You couldn’t walk a hundred metres without tripping over wild bushes and thick roots growing in the middle of what used to be fairly straightforward path, nests and burrows filled with feral beasts, or whatever mix of both that made up the local wildlife and couldn’t reliably be classified as either plant or animal.

Fighting with a shortsword and shield Talcott was able to hold his own. He had come far in the years since this all started. Having learned from all of them, Ignis could see their influences in his style. They fought well together and Ignis could trust him to have his back, no less than he would have trusted Gladio or Prompto. Or Noctis.

When they cut down a group of Falxfang and nothing else seemed to immediately jump out at them again, Talcott wiped the sweat of his forehead and let out a long sigh. 

“You know it’s bad when the smell of those things is almost pleasant compared to the rest of this pit,” he said.

“You’re not wrong.”

What had once been mines had turned into a fetid marshland that showed little sign of human activity ever having taken place here apart from some overgrown machinery and collapsed walkways.

“As if we needed any additional motivation to find that tomb as fast as possible.”

“Supposedly it’s at the end of one of the tunnels,” Ignis said. “We won’t have to worry about missing it along the way.”

“Small mercies.”

“You didn’t have to come with me.”

“No, I didn’t, did I?”

Talcott grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. Ignis shook his head at the carefreeness of that statement but couldn’t help a smile spreading across his face. Then tried not to let it sour once he remembered that without Talcott he would be here on his own. For a while he thought he would have had to come alone, was ready to do it, if necessary. This was better.

They all had their own way of preparing for Noct’s return.

“Is it because I’m the only one who can make those new food rations palatable?” That got him a laugh. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Some of us have to eat Monica’s Murky Soup, when you are not around.”

“Please tell me she’s not putting Malboro tentacles in there anymore!”

“The Glaives love it for some reason.”

Their path took a slow but steady descent, past the remnants of what must have been a majestic tree once upon a time, little more than a splintered, burnt-out stump left. They climbed across it and went further down into the mine shaft.

The tunnel opened into a moory cave.

“You go left, I go right?”

Ignis shook his head. “Let’s stick together.”

Thick vines hid the entrance to the tomb, hid it so well in fact that they went past it on their first round. They had to cut their way through. Despite the conditions outside not a single plant or drop of brackish water had made their way into the chamber.

“It’s not here?” Talcott asked as they approached the sarcophagus. “It’s not... inside there, is it? Do we have to open it?”

He looked as distraught as Ignis felt at that suggestion. He reminded himself that Talcott had never been to a tomb to retrieve one of the Glaives of Kings. So far Ignis had only taken him to the ones Noct had already been to.

“It doesn’t work like that. ‘The power of kings, passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls’,” he quoted the words Cor had spoken to Noct all those years ago. “The weapons are a physical representation of the power bestowed onto a king by his ancestors.”

“And you think they will let you claim it in Noctis’ absence?”

“If they approve of my intentions,” Ignis said far more calmly than he was feeling. It was like the Ring of the Lucii all over again. But that comparison just strengthened his resolve to do this.

_Given the chance, I would do it all over again._

“Now, who rests here?” he asked in a clear effort to distract from the topic.

Never one to miss an opportunity to show off how much he had learned Talcott replied eagerly. “The Warrior King. Contrary to his name, generally more known for tragic love than any sort of military achievement. His wife died young, leaving him heartbroken. He is the only king known to have been buried outside of Lucis. It’s unknown why though. Oh, and his weapon was a katana!”

“Very good.”

“But still... Are you sure this will work? Doesn’t it say that only someone from the royal line of Lucis can wield those weapons?”

“Lady Lunafreya had been holding on to the Trident of the Oracle King for a while,” he said and hoped that Talcott didn’t call him out on avoiding his first question. “And Ravus Nox Fleuret is still in possession of His Majesty’s sword.”

“I guess. But they are—”

“Of the Oracle line? If anything, the fact that the two lines have intermarried on multiple occasions since the Founding would be a more likely reason. Anyway, I don’t mean to actually wield the weapon. I’ve seen what they do to even Noctis. I only mean to carry it, so it should be fine.”

Talcott muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “If you say so”.

He wondered what Noct would have to say about this plan, how he would react, if he were here. Sceptical but ultimately trusting his judgment, hopefully. Noct always believed in him, just as much as Ignis did in him. He took strength from that.

Taking a deep breath he lifted his arm above the casket the same way he’d seen Noct do it. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then with the force of a train hitting a brick wall his conscience was drawn into the Beyond where the rulers of yore awaited.

Later he did not remember much of what transpired, probably his brain trying to shield him from things incomprehensible to the human mind. He thought they recognized him, and that he had heard King Regis’ voice, but the only thing he was absolutely sure of was that they sent him on his way with both their blessing and a warning.

“Oh, wow!”

A blue glow surrounded the katana as it floated upwards. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The weapon turned towards Ignis, pointed at his chest, and all of a sudden his world exploded into pain.


	2. Chapter 2

“I guess that answers that question,” Ignis joked between gritting his teeth and trying not to scream every time Talcott applied a little too much pressure while bandaging his chest.

“W-what question?” Talcott asked as he continued his work of patching Ignis up. His hands were thankfully steadier than his voice.

_What that warning was supposed to be about._

“If the armiger rule applies to the royal weapons. Do you know it?” Talcott shook his head, brows furrowed. “It’s simple, really. We can pull from the armiger and return things to it, but we cannot put anything new in there. Only Noctis can do that. We never really noticed how inconvenient that was until… well.”

“So that’s what it tried to do, go into the armiger?”

Ignis followed Talcott’s gaze to where the Katana of the Warrior lay discarded and still quite bloody. He hummed affirmatively. “And it would have worked, if I was him.”

“I figured. Can’t imagine him going from tomb to tomb, if that’s what happened to him at every single one.” He wound the last of the bandage around Ignis’ torso and finished it off with a bit of leucoplast. Then he helped him put on a new shirt. “I wondered why you guys weren’t using the armiger as much as you used to.”

“We gave most of what was in there away. Clothes, medicine, food. Even most of our camping gear. It didn’t seem right to keep it all for us when there are so many people who need it. It’s mostly just weapons and uniforms now. A few mementos, photographs and such.” He would take them out and look at them as often as his heart could stomach it. “I think Noct would approve.”

“For sure! He is generous and kind and would want his people looked after! And he will make a great king!”

“And until then we make sure to do everything we can to prepare for his return.” Ignis reached for the katana, only for a sharp pain to emanate from the wound, forcing him to abandon the motion. He tried not to let it show. Talcott had just stopped fussing over him. ”Hand it to me, will you?”

Talcott must have picked something up regardless. He went to pick up the weapon but held onto it, even though he seemed a bit spooked by it and wouldn’t touch it with his bare hands. “Are you sure you don’t want another potion?”

“I know they gave us three for this mission but that doesn’t mean we should use them frivolously. I’m fine now.”

When the sword had punctured his chest, he’d sunk to his knees and Talcott had been there to catch him before his head hit the ground. He’d pulled it out and applied a potion before Ignis could protest. Maybe for the better, he had to admit. Even with the help of that healing magic it didn’t close fully and just barely stopped bleeding after soaking the first two pieces of gauze Talcott used to try stem the flow with. Ignis thought he’d passed out sometime around that point. Probably the blood loss. Maybe from the pain. Or it could have been the shock of being skewered on a blade of legend catching up to him.

“Hand it over. Please.”

For a moment he was sure Talcott would just outright refuse. What he didn’t expect was the attempt at compromise. “You can have it, once we made camp and called Prompto and Gladio.”

“Why? It’s not like they will drop whatever they are doing and come here. They have their own missions.”

“You really think that?”

Ignis gave it some thought but his answer remained the same as the one that had spontaneously come to his mind. “We haven’t exactly been close over the years. They don’t believe we will find the answer to saving Noct in these tombs.”

“They will still want to know, that you got hurt!”

“Tell you what... you give me the katana right now, we get out of here, and _then_ we will call them?”

He could practically see Talcott’s resolve crumble. Good. Ignis wasn’t about to let a kid set the rules, but what could he realistically have done in the physical condition he was in, if Talcott were to push the issue? 

Not much, was what. He was lucky he could lift his arm up high enough to accept the weapon, when Talcott handed it to him.

He wiped at the coagulated blood on the blade with what was left of his shirt. To little effect. “Where is the water bottle?” he asked, doubling his efforts.

“You can do that at camp. Come on,” Talcott said and offered him his help to stand up. “I think I saw a haven on our way in.”

“I saw it, too.” He sighed. “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

With Talcott’s help he pulled himself up onto wobbly feet. “Keep close?”

“Of course.”

It took them double the time to return to the haven than the entire way to the tomb had taken them. Not just because the terrain got even more treacherous taking it uphill or them taking a longer route to avoid another group of Falxfangs, but also because Ignis’ balance got thrown off by things like taking a wrong step or turning at the shoulder instead of his whole body when looking around. The pain left him short of breath and they also paused a number of times because Talcott said that if his face got any whiter, he would mistake him for a ghost.

Ignis was sure he exaggerated. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the haven.

“I can get us set up,” Talcott volunteered.

“I can help.”

“You’ll help me by not fainting because honestly the thought alone scares the shit out of me and I have no clue how I would deal with that. Not to mention what Gladio and Prompto would do to me, if you died on my watch.” Talcott gently took Ignis’ arm. “You might want to sit down. Your hands are shaking.”

He looked at them and turned them around a couple of times — they were most certainly not shaking! — but in the process he also realised that he was too tired to keep arguing. Ignis sat down against a rock with one of their bags to cushion his back and gave cleaning the katana another try.

“You know, it’s kind of disconcerting seeing you so caringly with that weapon after what happened,” Talcott said after a while. 

He came over with a plate of what passed for food these days and placed it next to Ignis.

Ignis shrugged. “It’s not going to happen again.”

Even if... he had to keep it regardless, keep it ready for Noctis. Anything to give him an edge in his battle against Ardyn and his own destiny. He would hold onto it like a lifeline.

Talcott shook his head in disbelief.

“You are taking this so much better than I would. Anyway, I’m calling Gladio now,” he said in a tone that dared him to protest. Which he definitely should but didn’t have the energy to do.

Talcott kept his eyes on Ignis while he dialed but turned his back on him when his call got picked up.

“We went to Cartanica, like we planned, and found the tomb...” Ignis halfheartedly listened to Talcott recall the events to Gladio while stabbing at his food. “... went well until... missed his heart but it came all the way out back again.” For some reason he didn’t have much of an appetite. “Yeah, it was pretty bad... got it to stop bleeding...” Ignis left the food but kept a hold of the royal weapon when he went to lie down on the bedrolls Talcott had put out.“... wouldn’t take another one… how soon can you be here?”

If the conversation went on for longer after that, Ignis didn’t know. He let sleep claim him.


	3. Chapter 3

He came to with a start at the touch of a hand on his face. Someone was calling his name, someone familiar. Gladio. Bend over him with a worried look on his face.

Ignis almost bumped into him when he tried to sit up but another pair of hands stopped him.

“Easy there, buddy.” Another familiar voice. Prompto.

Ignis turned his head towards him. Same worried face. Prompto’s hands on his shoulders gripped him harder than he probably realised. Discarded next to him lay an empty glass vial.

“You got here fast,” he noticed. Why had he ever thought that they wouldn’t come? It made no sense to him now. 

“Iggy... it’s been over 24 hours,” Gladio said.

That couldn’t be right. He never slept for more than 8 hours. Fighting drowsiness he tried to piece it all together. He felt like he had all the information necessary but his mind took its sweet time making the connections. The time discrepancy, his sluggishness, not noticing Gladio’s and Prompto’s arrival, the calling and touching, until they had apparently given him a potion. “I was... unconscious?”

“Sorry!” came a voice from a few feet away. Talcott, looking sheepishly at his feet. “I didn’t realise. I thought you were just sleeping, getting the rest your body needs, so I let you be.”

“But you were completely unresponsive, when we got here and tried to wake you up,” Prompto jumped in.

“Oh,” Ignis said at a loss for words.

“I should have noticed something was wrong. I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid,” Gladio said. “It’s Iggy who should have known better.” He shook his head and turned a reprimanding look at him. “Why would you refuse another potion, if it was that bad? And don’t give me some bullshit about rationing.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” He caught himself. The only thing getting emotional would accomplish was making sure Gladio would believe him even less. He took a calming breath. “It really wasn’t. Not comparatively. We’ve all had worse.”

“Let’s see it then,” Prompto suggested after sharing a long look with Gladio. He helped Ignis sit up and stayed at his side, an arm around his shoulder for support, while Gladio started unbuttoning his shirt. Protesting would likely get him nowhere so he resigned to let it happen. There was fresh blood on the bandages.

“Not that bad, huh?” Gladio asked as he was unwinding the binding. Ignis hissed as a piece of gauze pulled at the wound.

“Uh, that’s nasty,” Prompto said when the last layer fell away.

Ignis, despite himself, had to agree. Underneath all the blood the wound had opened up again, almost to its full size. The edges were jagged, as if it had been made by a blunt weapon instead of a sharp-edged sword.

Before he could say anything, Talcott chipped in, “It _does_ look worse than it did yesterday.” No one accused him of lying to make himself look better for not seeing the seriousness of this, but Talcott must have felt some unspoken allegation for he continued with, “I swear! I definitely would have insisted on another potion, if it had looked like that!”

“Which would have been a waste, seeing as how they just gave me one and it still looks like this. The potion didn’t do anything.”

“It woke you up,” Prompto insisted.

“And now we only have one potion left.”

“Two. Gladio and I have one left as well.”

“Still not a good enough reason to use them in such a wasteful manner.”

Gladio had carefully wiped at the blood with some gauze to get a better look. “Well, we got to do something about this. What do you want to do? I can try stitching you up or you take another potion right now. Your choice.”

Ignis didn’t even think twice. “Get the kit.”

“We don’t have anesthetic.”

“I’m aware.”

Gladio got up and rummaged through their packs. Prompto grabbed Ignis’ hand and squeezed tightly.

“Got it!” Gladio triumphantly held up the suture kit. He came back over to them and started unpacking the equipment; scalpel, hemostat, syringe, needle. The bottle of hydrogen peroxide came out empty. “Looks like we’ll have to sterilize these the old-fashioned way. Talcott, can you take care of that?”

“I-I’m...” It would have been part of formal Crownsguard training, but Talcott never went through that, only picking up bits and pieces here and there from whoever was around. 

“Remember, not too close to the flame. We don’t want to get any soot on it. And boil some water while you’re at it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I... of course. I can do it.” Talcott picked up everything in need of sterilization and brought it over to the campfire.

“Keeping an eye on him,” Gladio whispered to Prompto who snorted but also nodded in agreement.

“He’s older than you were when they let us do our first stitches,” Ignis said.

“Not on humans.” He shrugged. Going through the kit again he pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on before inspecting the wound more closely. “Can’t do anything unless we stop, or at least slow down, the bleeding. Hold this and put some pressure on it.” He took Ignis’ hand and pressed it onto a piece of cloth he placed over the wound. Ignis gritted his teeth. Gladio could have been gentler. “I’ve never worked on something like this before. Doesn’t even look natural, much less like a blade did this. Not too late to take that potion, Iggy.”

“I hate having to repeat myself.“ Ignis turned an icy glare at him but Gladio was barely looking at him anymore.

“I think the water is done. Prompto?” Gladio waited until he was sure he had Prompto’s attention. ”Make sure he keeps the pressure on. ” Gladio joined Talcott at the fire. Ignis saw him measure out some of the boiling water, waiting for it to cool down, and adding some salt to it.

“It was a joke.” Prompto was still holding onto his other hand. “And you would have noticed that, if pain didn’t always make you so cranky.” Ignis had no answer to that. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Prompto was expecting him to have one. “You know, he kinda freaked out when he got the call and saw who it was. First thing he did was ask about what happened to you. He couldn’t think of any other reason why Talcott would call instead of you.”

“We haven’t been in touch much,” Ignis said but now it sounded hollow even to his own ears. He’d used that same logic to explain to Talcott why he thought Gladio and Prompto wouldn’t come to their aid. Yet here they were. And Prompto was also right about the call; he would have made it himself in any other matter but this.

“For such a smart person you can be really dumb sometimes.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Who told you that? Your parents? You know you can’t trust parents to be truthful about your faults.” Prompto buried his face into Ignis’ shoulder to stifle his laughter.

Technically it was his uncle who said that, but fair enough. Ignis couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle himself. “You like that about me.”

“It’s a little endearing.”

“Just a little?”

“Yeah.”

“Having fun without me?” Gladio and Talcott joined them again. “Sorry to be a party pooper but we have everything ready to continue.”

That put a damper on the jovial mood. Ignis took a deep breath. “Go ahead!”

Spreading everything out on a clean linen on the ground Gladio knelt next to him. He filled the syringe with the saline water he prepared and used it to thoroughly clean and irrigate the wound. He repeated the process three times until he was satisfied. Ignis unconsciously squeezed Prompto’s hand when the next thing he picked up was a scalpel. He knew Gladio needed to prepare the edges of the wound that had become jagged and torn but having it actually happen... the fear was instinctual.

“We can get you something to bite down on,” Prompto offered.

Ignis shook his head, leaning against his shoulder. It shouldn’t hurt too much, not if Gladio did it right. He closed his eyes, unsure if he could watch this part. He’d seen it many times, had done it himself on occasion, but it was different when it was happening to himself.

With gentle touches Gladio warned him where he was going to cut next as to not surprise him. He worked slowly and precisely, cautiously removing just the minimum amount of flesh that needed to go in order to make a clean suture. Too much or not enough and the wound wouldn’t seal properly.

“Looks about right,” Gladio said after a while. Ignis heard the sound of him putting the scalpel down, opened his eyes again, and inspected the wound himself. “Satisfied with my work?” He nodded sharply, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Ready for the main event, then?” Picking up the package of suture material Gladio showed him the blue-dyed string inside. “Prolene. Lucky you. That should keep the scarring to a minimum.” 

“Because one more would make such a big difference,” Ignis said unimpressed, pointing at his face.

“If they aren’t going to deter you from playing with yet another royal artifact, there is no point in adding more scars, is there?”

Ignis sighed. He’d wondered when that would come up, the assumption that he hadn’t learned a thing from being almost killed by the Ring of the Lucii. He did learn. Though probably not the lesson Gladio would have liked him to take away from that experience.

No reason arguing, though. 

Gladio waited for him to say anything else, but Ignis felt fine letting him believe that he’d made his point. They would never see eye to eye on this matter. For Ignis it was all worth it in the end, if there was even the sliver of a chance that it would keep Noctis alive. And it wasn’t that Gladio wouldn’t happily give his life for Noctis as well, would throw himself in the way of a thousand blades, if that was what it took, but he liked there to be more certainty than a mere possibility of success.

(“Perfectionist like you I thought you would get that,” he’d said to him once. “Do it right; or don’t do it at all.”)

After threading the needle and picking it up with the hemostat, Gladio finally started stitching. He did it slowly, not out of lack of ability or confidence but because that’s what it took. When Ignis let out a shaky breath or flinched under his hands, he stopped for a moment and let him recover before moving on. Nonetheless Ignis started feeling more than a little faint by the halfway mark. 

Ignis recalled their training, as he watched Gladio work. No curves, just straight down all the way, then let his wrists do the rest of pushing the needles where it needed to go, repeat on the other side, then tie it all off. His technique was flawless and he had an eye for symmetry.

At his side Prompto was keeping up a constant stream of random conversation to distract him but it got to a point where Ignis couldn’t do much more than simply nod along. 

Just a couple tiny pinpricks, he tried telling himself, but the skin around the wound felt like it was on fire — a feeling he had very intimate knowledge of.

He cried out at Gladio suddenly tying off a stitch with too much force.

“Sorry!” Gladio said immediately. “It’s weird talking about it like it’s sentient or something, but it feels like the wound is fighting me.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything until you were done but...” Talcott who had remained quietly at Gladio’s side, probably trying to learn something by watching him, sat up and retrieved the Katana of the Warrior. It was drenched in blood. “Ignis cleaned it after we made camp.”

Gladio interrupted his suturing for some, what even to Ignis seemed like, well-earned cursing.

“You are so going to take that potion in addition to this, Ignis. And don’t you dare argue!” said Prompto. “I’ll make you!”

Coming from Prompto it shouldn't work as a threat, but he was either too weak or too freaked out himself by this to consider defiance. A part of him was ready to admit that the bloody blade scared him. When he was granted the katana, the warning… was there more to it?

Despite getting into even more difficulties the closer he got to finishing the suture, Gladio eventually managed it. 

Wretched was one word to describe how Ignis felt by that point but the potion did help. Enough so that he got the three others to agree that he could rest _after_ they left this bleak mine behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Ignis was slow to wake again the next morning. He opened his eyes to see Gladio and Prompto bend over him once more. “Tell me, if anyone else is experiencing a sense of déjà vu.”

Gladio shook his head. “You slept a bit longer than we are used to from you, but it hasn’t been 24 hours this time.”

“And we didn’t have to use a potion to wake you up,” Prompto added. “How are you?”

Not the way a good night’s rest should make him feel like. It was more like he hadn’t slept at all. If he closed his eyes right now, there was a good chance he would fall asleep instantly. The pain was... still there, not as all consuming as it had been yesterday but always there in the background. It made it harder to focus on under this cloud of drowsiness.

“Still tired.”

“We had Talcott break out the emergency stash of coffee for breakfast.” Yes, now that Gladio mentioned it, Ignis could smell the unmistakable aroma of a fresh brew. His body reacted on autopilot. He was his feet before he realised it — and would have been down on his arse again just as fast, if Gladio hadn’t been prepared to catch him. “Take your time. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Let me fetch you a cup!” Prompto offered with way too much enthusiasm.

“Can you sit back down? I want a look at your stitches.”

To everyone’s great relief the suture was still in perfect condition and seemed to have caused no additional complications apart from the slight pain that was to be expected. There was nothing more to do but rest and let the natural healing process take its course.

Or so he thought.

Until breakfast and coffee did nothing to invigorate him, until they got back on the road and he didn’t even mind someone else driving the truck, until he had trouble hiding his ever growing tiredness from Gladio sitting next to him in the backseat. Ignis patted his chest along the edges of the wound. It hurt but not unusually so. The movement caught Gladio’s attention and Ignis felt some guilt that he tried to keep this to himself for now. But he needed to figure out what _this_ was before worrying his friends.

It wasn’t anything like the sort of fatigue that came from having to deal with difficult council members or reading through a 200 page document at 2 o’clock in the morning, but the bone-chilling exhaustion after a particularly drawn out battle. 

No, not after the battle. During. 

It was a constant drain on his energy, much like what Noct experienced when he used one of the royal arms in combat. Except that for Noct it stopped instantly after the fight ended and his symptoms vanished with a single potion. Ignis hadn’t used the katana, certainly wasn’t using it now — he had agreed to let Prompto take it for now — and and potions seemed to merely delay the inevitable. And of course, there was the difference that Noct had never been physically stabbed by any of the weapons. How relevant was that, though? His chest wound didn’t cause much issue now that Gladio had seen to it.

Maybe he could ask Ravus for his opinion. Their destination was Fenestala Manor where the last functional airship was currently docked. Cid had modified it to run off of the magitek energy in Ravus’ arm, making him the only one capable of piloting the ship. From what he picked up on from half-remembered conversations during breakfast, Gladio and Prompto had already been on their way to meet with him when they got the call from Talcott, so he should be there. Yes, asking Ravus was his best option.

The roads were in bad shape, barely maintained for the use of Hunters, yet still they hit a new roadblock every few hours — some that took a long time to drive around. Despite the unpredictable and near constant up and down or zigzagging around potholes Ignis found himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

In a dream Gladio gently coaxed him to lay his head on his shoulder. Ignis took comfort from it, only to find upon waking that by rolling around in his sleep he had indeed leaned against Gladio. Either that or his perception of what was dream and what was reality was getting mixed up, a notion he wasn’t quite ready to entertain just yet. He closed his eyes again.


	5. Chapter 5

_“Oh, thank the gods I found you boys.”_

The next time Ignis opened his eyes it was on the inside of an Imperial battleship, hearing Ardyn’s voice. “What...?”

_“Why, grant you safe passage—just as I said.”_

Why was this familiar?

“Have I ever told you how good it is to have you on our side now?” he heard Prompto ask.

_“Come now. Is it fair to begrudge a man the circumstances of his birth?”_

“That’s exactly why we hope you know more than we do. Help us out here! What do you think?”

Gladio was on the verge of begging. Ignis couldn’t think of a reason why. His head was killing him and the rest of his body felt like it had been through the proverbial mixer as well. What happened? They had followed Ardyn to the Disc and fought Titan and Niflheim…

_“It’s a long way down.”_

“Another God... can’t say I like the sound of that.”

No. No, that had been years again. When they were still travelling with Noct. Right?

_“Enjoy the ride.”_

The sound of engines starting startled him and he looked around. “Noct? Where is Noct? We must keep him close. I don’t trust this Chancellor.”

Ardyn grinned at him from where he sat in the pilot’s seat.

_“You needn’t worry: you’re in good hands with me.”_


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh thank fuck!”

It was cold, in spite of the two coats someone had piled on top of him and the fire burning not far away. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was; the sky was clear but as starless as it had ever been since the sun went dark. Every now and then Ignis felt a snowflake hit his skin, just to melt and run down his face like a tear.

“Don’t you ever scare us like that again!”

That might have been directed at him but he wasn’t sure, so Ignis kept quiet.

“Hey, did you hear what I said?” Gladio tried again, sounding impatient, and something else Ignis couldn’t identify. 

He saw a shadow creeping closer out of the corner of his eye and was about to summon a dagger when Prompto intervened. “Easy there, big guy, give him a minute to get himself sorted, ok?”

“Don’t tell me what to-” Gladio visibly gathered himself, put a lid back on that boiling pot of anger. He stood up. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

No one said anything else until the sound of boots on snow got swallowed by the howling of the wind.

“What happened?” Ignis asked.

“Feeling ready to talk yet? It’s ok, if you don’t,” Prompto said. “To be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready myself yet. You gave all of us a bit of a scare there. Big scare. Like… like... Your heart stopped, dude.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Stopped, just like that. We could tell you were getting to the end of the rope and were looking for a place to camp, when you suddenly collapsed. Pulled me down with you, because I was helping you move along and wasn’t expecting it. It was... so we shoved that last potion down your throat and did CPR for what felt like forever.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Ignis said subdued. Prompto shrugged in the awkward way of someone holding back what they really wanted to say. Now was not the time to get angry about that, but Ignis let out a sharp “What?”.

Prompto hesitated before asking, “What is the last thing you remember?”

“The airship,” he replied on the spot. It didn’t take long for the confidence in his answer to waver however. He’d called for Noctis. “A bunch of nonsense. Old memories.”

“Do you know where we are?”

 _Tenebrae_ , he thought. “I don’t know.”

“Vogliupe,” came a voice from across the fire. Sitting there was someone Ignis hadn’t noticed before. “Niflheim.”

Recognizing that voice and replaying the jumbled pieces of memories in his head, Ignis winced. “Ravus. I can’t point to any specific grievance I dealt you but I feel like I have something to apologise to you for regardless.”

“You don’t,” Ravus declared in a tone betraying no emotions. “But I won’t stop you, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Then please accept my sincerest apologies. I am truly sorry for any ill I may have done you.”

“I do accept them.” The wind picked up and made the flames dance around him. Or maybe Ignis’ mind was already playing tricks on him again. “If you are feeling better, we should move on soon.”

“And move on to where exactly?”

“‘Blizzard-blown valley once known as the Glacian's bedroom’,” Ravus’ intonation made it clear that he was quoting something, “‘and now known as her final resting place. The canyon's name is sure to send a chill down the spine of any imperial citizen old enough to remember the horrible battle that took place here.’ Ghorovas Rift.”

Ignis looked at Prompto, who didn’t seem surprised. And why should he be, Ignis wondered. They must have discussed this before even coming here. It was only him that couldn’t remember.

“I think Ravus is right. We should get going,” said Prompto. “Come, Talcott, let’s see where Gladio wandered off to!”

Once they were gone, Ignis moved closer to Ravus. He wanted to get a better look at his face during their conversation. “Shiva?”

“Obviously.”

“And you think that will work?”

“It’s a gamble, I won’t lie.” Ravus looked Ignis straight in the eye, allowing him to read the truth that showed there. “Not a good chance, but better than no chance at all. It’s possible that to receive divine blessing you will need more than a vessel.”

“She is dead but not gone. But that’s what worries you, not whether or not divine blessing even is what I need?”

“I’m certain about that part. It’s what Lunafreya offered to plead for on my behalf when I returned with the King’s sword from Insomnia. It wouldn’t even necessarily have to come from the gods themselves. A messenger would do but as you know-” 

Ravus left the sentence unfinished but, yes, Ignis did know. He’d watched Pryna die, and no one had seen Umbra or Gentiana in years. Neither of them was aware of the identity of any of the others. He had a sneaking suspicion that Noct’s Carbuncle was another one but he had no proof. And anyway, Carbuncle never showed up outside of the odd photo cameo.

“Have you told the others? How slim my chances are?”

“They have been with you over the last couple of days. They have seen the potions last you a shorter interval each time. I would assume they suspect. Of course they all have their own issues with my plan, but no, I didn’t tell them.” Ravus turned his head away. Perhaps in thought, or maybe he no longer wished to share the truth of his emotions with Ignis. “They worry about you, are angry with you, and don’t always know how to reconcile the two. It’s bittersweet in their misguidedness. It’s only the second time you let passion overrule your mind. I pray you survive, so it can happen a third and fourth and fifth time. Maybe they will understand eventually.”

Ignis made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “That’s a lot of words for saying ‘I get it’ basically.”

“You didn’t ask,” Ravus said, “but I know you wanted to.”

Ravus doused the fire and they were ready to go when Talcott and Prompto returned with Gladio in tow.

The track through the snow was hard and unforgiving, made harder by Ignis growing weaker with every step he took. He tried not to let it show but the exhaustion gnawed at him. As Ravus had said, each potion he’d taken had been less effective than the last.

As they made their way through a mountain pass and into the ravine they were hit by an unforgiving blizzard that, coming directly from the front, seemed intent on keeping them out. Trying to shield their eyes against its rage while keeping a hand on both the person in front and behind them so as to not lose each other, proved to be impossible. It was hard to believe that all of this had once been habitable, even welcoming, land two decades ago.

Being able to see maybe half a metre in front of your own feet, meant that they didn’t realise that they’d reach their goal until they’d almost earned themselves a few stubbed toes on the Glacian’s icy flank. Reading about her in book could not compare; she was massive, radiating an aura of coldness that easily found its way past their heavy clothes and right into their bones.

It was impossible to even hear the sound of their own voices over the roaring of the storm but they tried. Asking the goddess for her blessing, explaining to her the path they’d tread in the True King’s stead, the path they would continue to walk, giving her all the reasons why she should consider them worthy of her attention. Each of them begging and pleading until Ignis couldn’t stand on his own two feet anymore without help. 

Tears started falling. Begging dissolved into sobbing. That too was swallowed by the sounds of the wind around them.


	7. Chapter 7

They found the strength to make it back to the airship. Ignis didn’t know how. First, they alternated helping him put one foot in front of the other until he couldn’t even do that anymore, then they alternated carrying him the rest of the way. It should make him feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy things but there was only the cold. Snow was no longer melting on contact. It just landed on him and stayed put, building a second skin out of crystal flakes.

He shook and shook and shook and no matter the mountains of blankets they piled on top of him, the shivering wouldn’t stop. Hot meals and drinks, hot-water bottles, crawling into bed with him — nothing worked to get him warm.

Everything outside his bed in a little alcove on board the ship seized to matter, background noise, unimportant. In his more lucid moments he could still recognise those noises as specific activities. Frantic phone calls were a staple. Sometimes there was crying. 

A little bright spot in all of this: No matter all the other things they certainly had to do, at least one person was always sitting at his side. After a while Ignis wasn’t able to tell them apart anymore (he hoped his uncle was amongst them, and Noctis of course, always Noctis) but what counted was them being there, silently keeping him company, talking or reading to him, holding his hands, or holding him in their arms. It was peaceful in a way.

One sense after another left him. Smell, taste, sight, hearing. Touch remained, though, and it was all he needed to comfort him.

When his routine changed without notice, he got upset. He was in a new bed, new clothes, and with seemingly no one by his side. Next he got angry. With no way to see, hear, or speak, how was he supposed to fend for himself? Then came the sadness. But with no way of voicing his displeasure he had no choice but to accept that a gentle up and down was lulling him back to sleep. _Waves_ , a tiny, growing ever weaker part of his brain said before drifting away.

And then he was moved _again_ , and not even from one bed to another. They took him outside where it was cold and miserable. Where wind hit his face and reminded him unpleasantly of Ghorovas Rift.

The first clear sound, he heard since his hearing left him, was a bark. A black dog sitting on his chest the first clear image. The taste and smell of salty sea air followed soon after. 

Trying to adjust he absently scratched Umbra's head and earned himself a lick on the chin. Was this it? “You are real, aren’t you?” Was he saved?

He looked around, a bit disconcerted by how used to not knowing where he was he’d become in such a short amount of time. At least there were two very familiar faces waiting for him.

Umbra jumped away and Gladio and Prompto took that as their cue to rush to his side. Two pairs of arms folded him into a warm embrace. “Thank you! For everything.”

He honestly didn’t expect the protest. 

“All we did was get you here,” Prompto mumbled into Ignis’ shoulder, sounding apologetic.

“The Glaives actually found this place, and Umbra, a few days ago,” was Gladio’s argument. “I think we barely made it in time.”

Ignis couldn’t help but smile. “Exactly. You kept me alive, even against my efforts to not let you at times. Without that…” He shook his head.

Gladio pulled out of the embrace to cross his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah, well, if that’s what it takes to get some esteem around here. Every now and then you just gotta respect my seniority, Iggy! And I told you not to scare me like that again. But do you listen?”

Prompto looked at Ignis who looked at him and they both started laughing at the same time. After letting them have this moment, Gladio joined in as well.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” Prompto had flung his arms around Ignis’ neck, unwilling to let go just yet. Then, struck by a horrible thought, “You are ok, right?”

Listening inside himself Ignis searched for the answer and the deeper he went to look the brighter his smile grew. “I feel fine. No, good. I feel good.” 

“I almost can’t believe it!”

“Yeah!” Gladio agreed. “Seems surreal after all that. Not to mention being here of all places!”

That piqued Ignis’ interest. “So where is this _‘here’_?” He could guess that it was a place near the sea, given the sound of the ocean and the quality of the air, but otherwise he couldn’t tell much from their environment. He’d woken amongst solid stone, nothing but bare rocks all around.

“Buddy, are you in for a treat!”

Gladio spread his arms in a grand, theatrical gesture. “This... is Angelgard!” His dramatic pause got cut short; he must have seen the look of murder in Ignis’ eyes. “It’s here where the Chosen King will make his return. And soon, according to what Gentiana told those Glaives.”

“Noctis!” Ignis slapped a hand over his mouth to keep most of the emotion inside. There was nothing else to say. He reached out a hand to both Gladio and Prompto who each took the other one of each other’s hands, forming a loose triangle. They all felt the same thing, blessed, to be able to share this moment. 

Ten, maybe twenty minutes, spent in complete silence, each one of them thinking about Noct, the past they shared and the future they eagerly awaited.

“Ready to get back? We still have a lot of things to do before our King returns!”

“Right! Wouldn’t want him thinking we’ve just been lazing about!”

“Lead the way!” Ignis was about to follow them when he had an idea. “One moment! Prompto, you are still holding the Katana of the Warrior?”

Gladio and Prompto looked at him in alarm.

“Would you two please trust me?”

“Absolutely not!” Gladio declared but he nodded at Prompto who pointed Ignis in the direction of where the blade leaned against the rock.

Pulling his notebook and a pen out of the armiger Ignis went over to the katana, scribbled a few words onto a free page and tore it out. “Umbra?” he called and the black dog was at his side in a matter of seconds. Ignis pointed first at the katana, then at the piece of paper. “You will make sure he gets both of these?” No need to clarify which _he_ they were talking about. Umba barked. “I’m counting on you. Thank you for this. And for, you know, saving me.”

“Barely on your feet again and already trying to give my another heart attack.” Gladio slung an arm across Ignis’ shoulder as they made their way towards the anchoring place of their yacht. 

Before climbing on board, Ignis turned to face the isle for the last time.

Noctis...

Be waiting... in Hammerhead.


End file.
